


Too close to the sun

by zhelaniye



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander is sad, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Canon Era, Duelling, Fluff, Gay John Laurens, Historical Inaccuracy, Hurt/Comfort, John is a Saint, M/M, Occasional references to the musical's lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-29 05:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14466321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhelaniye/pseuds/zhelaniye
Summary: After Laurens' duel with Lee, Alexander Hamilton can't stop seeing the gun pointed directly at John Laurens' heart.





	Too close to the sun

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic, Alex never gets sent home by Washington and John is, as usually, a sweet boy trying his best.
> 
> English is not my first language so if there's any mistake, please let me know in the comments and i'll fix it!

Alexander Hamilton had been writing for hours, sitting at his desk in the middle of a camp full of frightened soldiers, staring at his scribbled words until they looked foreign and meaningless.

  
Lafayette had shown a few hours before, staring at him with thinly veiled concern in his dark eyes when Alexander had absentmindedly refused his invitation for a drink, excusing himself with a work both knew had been finished ages ago. 

  
But Alexander couldn't stop. His muscles ached and his head throbbed but at least the scratch of his quill against the paper was better than the deafening echo of a gunshot and the smell of drying ink could drown the stink of gunpowder. He closed his eyes against the images that were flooding his mind and pressed his palms against his eyelids until everything he could see were shapeless colours.

 

_John Laurens staring at the barrel of a gun steadily pointed at him. John Laurens turning to face him one last time and his green eyes shattering something somewhere deep inside Alexander's soul. John Laurens facing his oponent again and the receding sun shining on his unruly curls, creating a golden halo around his head, and Alexander couldn't help but believe that he's an angelic appearance, an otherwordly presence that somehow landed on this world._

 

A choked sob tore his way up Alexander's throat and he allowed himself a second of weakness to bury his face in his hands and breathe deeply. John won the duel. The blood spilled had been all Charles Lee's. John was fine and probably laughing his way through as many glasses of scotch he could get his hands on somewhere. John was alive. _  
_

 

_John staring in surprise at the blood spreading through his chest and soaking his uniform, a drop of it dripping down his lower lip. A scream piercing through the air like a second bullet, directed to Alexander this time. John silky, sweet voice sounding rough and shattered when he whispers "Alexander-"..._

 

"Alexander!"

  
Hamilton looked up, startled, dropping his quill and staining the letter he had been writing, now damaged beyond repair, but he couldn't find it in himself to care about that when John Laurens, the real one - the alive one, his mind provided unhelpfully - was standing in front of him, dashingly beautiful under the candlelight, with a slight frown creasing his forehead.

  
"John-" Alexander murmured and something in the raw relief on his tone deepened John's frown.

  
"What was the last time you took a break?" John asked, his southern drawl becoming momre noticeable with the concern he was so obviously displaying and the side effects of the alcohol he was more expertly hiding. 

 

Alexander started to mumble something about having eaten something a few hours ago but was stopped short when John raised an eyebrow, and he couldn't help but think that if George Washington or, god help him, Aaron Burr discovered that such a small gesture form Laurens could shut Alexander Hamilton up, they'd faint on the spot.

  
John picked up Alexander's discarded quill and inkpot and tucked it carefully away in the first and only drawer of his desk, shooting Alexander and incredulous and increasingly worried look when his actions met no colourful rant about the vital importance of Alexander's job.

  
"Come here", John said, and something in the softness of his tone spurred Alexander's body into action, following John around the camp, making their way to John's own tent.  
It was a pleasant, warm night but Alexander shivered when his arm brushed John's clothed chest when he stepped aside to let the shorter man in. As soon as the door was closed behind them, not without a careful backward glance, Laurens turned towards Alexander and pressed his hand against Alexander's cheek, stroking his cheekbone with his thumb when he leaned into the touch.

  
Laurens turned away and wordlessly walked to a corner of his tent to grab a forgotten bowl of stew and hand it to Alexander. It was cold but Hamilton's stomach howled gratefully and a small smile made dimpes appear on John's freckled cheeks at the sound.

  
John sat unceremoniously on the edge of the cot and gestures to Alexander to follow him. They eat in companionable silence - and really, no one else ever had this effect on Alexander before he met John Laurens. His thoughts were usually a hurricane of light and frantic sound he had to fight against to avoid drowning, but with Laurens by his side, when he was touching his back and neck tenderly with his fingertips, the way he was doing then, Alexander felt in control and his mind was a powerful but manageable stream of whispers.

  
Laurens' wandering hand found a spot to rest over Alexander's hipbone and the shorter man shuddered.

  
"Alexander-" John started, his voice barely above a whisper.

  
"It should have been me" Hamilton blurted out, and immediately closed his eyes to avoid seeing the shock he knew would be clear as day on his friend's eyes. "In the duel, in front of Lee. It should have been me."

  
You had direct orders, you could have done nothing else and it was my duty as much as it was yours is what anyone would have answered. Anyone but Laurens, who knows him, sees him as clear as he can see himself.

  
"I see" John said, and after a few seconds of silence, he added, "But I won, didn't I? I did not throw away my shot."

  
"But I am Washington's right hand man. I am the one who challenged Lee in the first place. It was not you but me who should be ready to-" Alexander's voice, which had been steadily rising until that moment, broke on a choked sob before he could say the word, the way in which he had been seeing Laurens inside his head. But he heard it anyway.

  
"Oh, Alexander" he whispered, sadness and something more, something deeper and bigger, staining his voice. "You would have done the same, and then you would be telling me the exact same words I am telling you."

  
"I am completely aware of our duty, Laurens" Hamilton said. "I know what you did needed to be done, and by no one better than us, who are destined to build this country. I know this is neither the first nor the last time death knocks on our door and we don't heed the calls. I know this things, you must know I do."

  
John takes a second to pry the empty bowl from Alexander's hands, now white-knuckled, and close his own hands around his before replying.

  
"I know, Alexander" he paused and squeezed Hamilton's hands, whose fingers curl around his immediately. "There'll be more of us".

  
Alexander met John's eyes properly for the first time since they'd stepped into the tent at that. "But there willl never be more of you, John".

  
The honest, unguarderd look in Alexander's eyes were like a bullet that striked John right between his ribs and before he had time to talk, to spill that feeling that was threatening to choke him and drag him down, his lips met Alexander's.

  
John felt the other man sigh against his lips and two hands gripping his shoulder and thigh, maneuvering him so Alexander was lying on top of him.

  
John parted his lips and Alexander felt the unshakeable cold that had set in his bones since the first bullet had cut through the air that same morning disappear, pure want and need taking its place, his mind completely devoid of all thought except from the litany of _John, John, John..._ , which he thinks he might have said out loud, because Laurens' mouth stopped exploring Alexander's clavicle to whisper "I'm here, my love".

  
My love. Alexander shudders and John goes completely still, afraid to have overstepped, raising his head slowly to look at the other man's eyes. Alexander saw with a nearly unbearable rush of affection how the spark of hope in John's eyes grew stronger when his reddened lips stretched into a bright, wide grin.

  
"My love..." Alexander murmured, realizing with a pang of sadness that he hadn't said anything of the sorts to John since his wedding night. Alexander run a hand through John's loose curls. "My love" he whispered again.

  
He repeats the words over and over and knows right there, from the bottom of his heart, that no matter how deeply he loves Eliza, his body, his heart and his very soul will always belong to John Laurens.

 

Every drop of anguish Alexander might have been feeling were completely forgotten the moment John slid his hands underneath Alexander's breeches, his warm and calloused hands making him gasp and squirm under John's body, seeking friction.

 

"I'm here, Alexander", John whispered in a rough and muffled voice while he kissed his way down Alexander's stomach. John's hand grabbed the other man's sweaty one and laced his fingers with Alexander's tenderly. He allowed himself one more second to look into Alexander's heavily lidded with arousal eyes and tried to smirk, accomplishing something that looked more like a delighted smile. "I'm here"

 

Alexander wanted to answer. He wanted to make John promise he would never leave. He wanted to make him promise he would live to know Alexander's son, who would grow up knowing John as part of his close family. He wanted to make John promise he would stay through the birth of the nation they were fighting to build. He wanted to make John promise he would be there to recieve everything Alexander wanted to give him. 

 

But then he was surrounded by the wet heat of John's mouth his curls were caressing the skin of his inner thighs, so Alexander thought about nothing at all.

 

Later, much later, when they were both lying facing each other, sated and still breathless, Alexander whispered "I will give you the world, John Laurens".

 

John chuckled, barely awake, and pressed a kiss to Alexander's fingertips. "I know you will, my love".

 


End file.
